


Eye Candy

by Zaraxae



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 17:33:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4488483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaraxae/pseuds/Zaraxae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The course of love never did run smooth, and sometimes that includes pimping out your other selves to get a new roommate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

          “Damn,” said Akefia, “ _I_ never had eye candy this nice, and you’re a bitchy pale teenager.”

 

          Bakura’s eye twitched tellingly and he felt an uncontrollable urge to stab his past self, who was currently eye-raping Marik and his yami, both of whom were glancing questioningly at Bakura himself. Bakura waved a vague hand at Akefia and half-assed his way through an explanation.

 

          “This is Akefia, my past self. Me, minus three thousand years and a piece of demon soul.”

 

          If he’d had his way, it would’ve ended there, but Marik had a damnably curious nature, and the minute he had an introduction he had shoved his face into Akefia’s to look at his scar, and had a hand in his short pale hair. Akefia had no objections, and Mariku had hung back to smirk lecherously at Marik.

 

          “Your little obsession with your hikari is disgustingly narcissistic, you know.” Bakura put in dourly.

 

          Mariku shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s not the worst thing I have going on by a long shot. Besides, we look less alike everyday. Hikari is much prettier than me, and it’s not like I want to _do_ anything. I just like looking.”

 

          At this point, the two were facing away from their companions, as the disgustingly smooth Akefia had managed to get an arm around Marik’s waist. Marik was completely unsuspecting, having grown up in a tomb with the ultimate conservative family. This made it refreshingly easy to check him out, but came with the downside that every sleazeball thought they had a chance with him.

 

          “He’s not _that_ clueless, is he?” Inquired Bakura. As different as they were, the two Egyptians knew every facet of each other’s personalities. Sharing a body will do that to people.

 

          “He is. He has some idea from the minds of people he’s controlled, but he doesn’t suspect anyone of harboring those kinds of motives. It was funny when you two first teamed up,” Mariku added thoughtfully, “if he was any kind of normal he’d be all over you.”

 

          “ _Really?_ _”_ Demanded Bakura, vitally interested in the new topic. Mariku mentally patted himself on the back. _Hook, line, sinker._

 

          “Yup. I mean, if you tried anything really blatant he’d freak out, but with the right excuse…” Mariku snapped his fingers. Bakura recognized the manifest invitation in the gesture, and thoughtfully chewed his lip. Letting Mariku know he was interested in a deal would give the alternate-personality-gone-wrong power over him, but it was fairly valuable information…

 

          “What do you want?” Bakura acceded.

 

          “Your hikari. Invite him to live with us. We have plenty of room, and he’s lonely enough to agree. Then you have to promise not to interfere.”

 

          It was a hard bargain. Bakura was still immensely protective of his former host, and he didn’t trust Mariku as far as Ryou’s skinny little arms could throw him. However, having someone halfway sane around the house could be useful. Leaving the boy entirely in Mariku’s power, though, was unthinkable. “How about a compromise—”

 

          “Joy, compromise.”

 

          “—I won’t interfere as long as you don’t hurt or manipulate him. Emotionally or physically, and you consult me before taking drastic action.”

 

          “I can live with that, but if you back out I’ll tell Marik. I’ll give him The Talk, and then I’ll expose you.”

 

          They shook on it, then purposefully turned around, only to be greeted by the sight of Marik perched happily in Akefia’s lap, twirling the Millennium Rod. Bakura looked at Mariku pointedly.

 

          “I think we have a consensus on the Akefia issue though.” Mariku deadpanned, before striding over and lifting Marik off of the thief king, who shrugged and got to his feet, yawning.

 

          “I’m tired, what’s the bedroom situation?”

 

          “Three bedrooms, two beds. My hikari will be moving in tomorrow, so if you have someone else running around in your body, you’re sleeping with them. Akefia gets the couch for now,” Bakura explained. In his mind, the Ryou issue was settled. His ex-host was lonely, and wouldn’t dare defy Bakura.

 

          “Mariku, show Akefia around. I’m going to call Ryou.”

 

Bakura strode off to fetch a cell phone, leaving a dead silence in the room. Akefia was eying up Mariku, who was glaring back, and Marik was looking over Akefia with cold and calculating eyes. In some ways Marik might be innocent, but he was brilliant, manipulative and ruthless, and had no inherent trust for Bakura’s past self. Present Bakura he trusted to some slight extent, but his guard never dropped.

 

          Eventually, Mariku cleared his throat threateningly.

 

          “Bakura’s host’s name is Ryou Bakura. Bakura stole his last name, really, so we just call him Ryou. He looks exactly like Bakura, but cuter and weaker and less skeletal. If you express any kind of interest in him, both Bakura and I will make you suffer unimaginable agony and you will never get laid again. As a matter of fact, the same goes for Marik here.”

 

          When Bakura reappeared fifteen minutes later, he found a puzzled, suspicious Marik, a pouty Akefia, and a smug Mariku, who announced that he had been educating Akefia about certain property that was off limits. Bakura struggled to contain a triumphant snigger at Akefia’s rather put out expression.

 

          “Ryou—my host—will be arriving tomorrow, as will the rest of the furniture. For now, it’s late. Akefia, I put bedding on the couch. Everyone can bugger off now. Except you, Mariku. We’re gonna have a friendly chat.”

 

          Marik looked like he might have protested, but Akefia’s casual acceptance of the dismissal swayed him into compliance. He huffed and stalked up the stair towards his room, leaving Bakura and Mariku alone together.

 

          “So,” drawled Bakura, “what are these ‘right excuses’ that you say might work? Ryou’s going to move in tomorrow, so you may as well tell me now.”

 

          Mariku rolled his shoulders and slouched into a chair.

 

          “Well, like I said, don’t just haul off and make a move on him, he’ll flip out. But the first thing would be to cement his trust. He suspects he can trust you, but you need to confirm that. He’s not some wimpy submissive idiot, but he likes to feel protected. For most of his life, he’s been alone when the going gets tough. He can’t forget that Odion, as loyal and loving as he is, watched his father drag him away knowing what would happen.

 

          “So my first suggestion would be to get him to watch a horror movie with you. He’ll be glad to spend time alone with you. Gore won’t affect him at all, go for suspense and psychological horror. Once he gets good and freaked out, go for some kind of subtle physical reassurance. Once he knows you won’t make fun of time or take advantage of his weakness, and that you’re okay with physical contact, he’ll probably stay latched onto you for the rest of the movie. Depending on what happens, come to me again after that.

 

          “Generally, what you’re trying to do is confirm that he can trust you. He isn’t the type to want someone dominating and protecting him. He wants someone evenly matched with him, someone who he can depend but doesn’t rely on. You fit the bill. He isn’t going to turn into a wimp the minute you two get together. He needs to trust that he can show you weakness, but he’ll demand respect and equality. In short, he’s massively into you.”

 

          They sat there for a while, Bakura digesting, Mariku staring at Bakura, analyzing him. Finally, Bakura spoke.

 

          “I wasn’t going to tell you, for shits and giggles, but Ryou is scared out of his mind of you. It seems fair to tell you, as you were so forthcoming. He doesn’t really see you as a person, just an entity of hate and violence. Which was true, really, until recently.”

 

          Mariku looked somewhat crushed, but nowhere near giving up.

 

          “I suppose so. I’m still evening out, but my positive emotions have nearly balanced out my inherent negative ones. The same thing happened to Marik when I was ‘born’. Since I was all his negative emotions, for a few weeks he was entirely pure and positive. _That_ didn’t last long.” Mariku snorted fondly.

 

          “That’s also why sex is so foreign to him. He was young enough that his feelings of shame and confusion regarding the topic were forced onto me. He’s only recently reassimilated any kind of sex drive at all, actually.”

 

Bakura nodded, looking pensive, and drifted up the stairs, followed closely by Mariku. It was only ten, but with the rest of the furniture and Ryou arriving the next morning, sleep would be hard to come by for a few days.

 

          The minute Mariku entered his and Marik’s room, its other occupant shot up in the bed and opened his mouth to demand an explanation. Mariku impressed his need for privacy through their mental bond. Marik’s mouth twisted and he gave in, though still clearly unhappy about being left in the dark.


	2. Two

The next morning dawned bright and unconscionably early thanks to Ryou, who had always been an early riser. By seven, he was already in the kitchen cooking with ingredients and cookware he’d wisely brought with him. The noise and delicious smells woke Bakura, who was resigned to Ryou’s ways. He stumbled downstairs five minutes, grumpy and with bedhead on full display.

“I hope you rot in hell, you despicable, cheerful son of a bitch.” Bakura mumbled resentfully as he collapsed into a chair and flopped his upper torso across the table. Ryou, normally a sensitive soul, was by now fully immune to Bakura’s piss-poor attitude towards mornings, and ignored him righteously.

He was followed ten minutes later by both resident Egyptians. Marik had obviously just gotten out the shower, as his hair was dripping wet and he was shirtless. He was dragging a snarling Mariku by a hairbrush entangled in the yami’s spikes of hair.

“Morning Ryou! It’s good to see you!” Marik declared cheerfully, plopping Mariku down in a chair and dragging the brush through his hair. Ryou returned the greeting cheerfully from the stove, and the sight of a wet, shirtless Marik went a long way towards waking Bakura up. 

By the time breakfast was ready, even Akefia had dragged himself to the table, yawning but relatively cheerful. Marik had gotten up to help Ryou serve food, and Bakura and Mariku were starting to consider the relative merits of sitting upright.

Half an hour later, after the addition of food and coffee, everyone was fully awake. Bakura had just returned from a shower when the truck with the furniture pulled up to the house. Ryou cracked his knuckles, put his hair into a girly ponytail, and assumed the demeanor of a drill sergeant. Mariku might or might not have drooled a bit.


	3. Three

Several hours later, the deed was done, and the house’s five occupants were almost completely settled in. The house itself was fairly normal, with three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, and then a kitchen, living room, and another bathroom on the first floor.

Ryou was still setting up the kitchen, a task he would entrust to no one else, but everyone else was relaxing. Bakura and Akefia were on the couches, Marik was in his room, and Mariku was showering, contemplating what he had dubbed the Ryou Problem. When they had been hauling furniture around, Ryou had been coordinating their efforts, and had no problem ordering his housemates around. Except for Mariku. Ryou avoided eye contact, shied away from him, and never addressed him directly. Mariku had been left cluelessly trying to help without directions, and would have demanded that Ryou talk to him if he hadn’t feared the boy would faint.

The only reasonable solution he could see was to talk to Ryou. Bluntness was the only strategy he could think of, and Marik’s memories depicted Ryou as reasonable and compassionate. Mariku exhaled grumpily and stepped out of the shower. Normally he relished confrontation, but he was absolutely terrified of what Ryou could do to him with just words. Positive emotions were hard. They made you need and care about people, and that just hurt. Most of the time though, it felt worth it. 

Gently opening their door, Mariku walked in on Marik lying on a bed looking lost to the world. A quick check down their mental link revealed Marik wondering how Bakura’s hair felt, and suppressing an overwhelming urge to go downstairs and find out. Mariku snorted and sent a ping of amusement through their bond.

“Jesus, Marik, just jump him or something. You obviously want to, and I doubt he’d object.” 

Marik shot up indignantly.

“Get the hell out of my mind! And it’s not anything like that, you pervert!”

“Suuuure it isn’t. I can read your mind, idiot. I know exactly what you feel, and even I can tell what those kinds of feelings mean.” Mariku asserted smugly. He cut off Marik’s protest by reflecting back feeling he’d gleaned from Marik over the past few weeks: fear of trusting Bakura, fear of being used, fear of rejection. Marik bit back with Mariku’s memories of Ryou and all the gushy feelings they evoked.

Their mental war continued for more than ten minutes before Akefia wrenched open the door and popped in, staring at them strangely. At that point they realized they were nose to nose glaring at each other ferociously in utter silence. Marik tugged a lock of hair sheepishly. 

“Mental bond equals mental arguments,” he mumbled. Akefia blinked, then recovered admirably.

“Oh, I see. Well, Ryou ordered some takeout. It’s time for dinner. After you, by all means!” The thief ushered Marik in front of him and down the stairs. When he tried to pull the same move on Mariku, a heavy hand found its way onto his shoulder and he found himself face to face with Mariku’s Eye of Horus. 

“I can sympathize with what you’re doing, believe me, but don’t try it on me. You do not want to mess with me. Got it?” Mariku forcibly steered Akefia towards the stairs, then amiably removed his hand and followed white-haired menace number two down the stairs. They both thoroughly enjoyed the view Akefia had provided them with.

The delightfully domestic Ryou already had all the food served by the time the last three members of the household arrived. A brief, exceedingly polite war over seating arose almost instantly, a combination of death glares and courteous invitations to be seated contriving to create a strained atmosphere. Eventually, they ended up around in the circular table with Marik to Bakura’s left, Ryou to his left, Akefia to his left, then Mariku, who was pouting over how obviously Ryou had avoided sitting anywhere near him.

Everyone dug in immediately, and the sound of chewing prevailed for most of the meal. As they finished up, Ryou collected the dishes and whisked them away to the sink.

“Bakura picked out some movies for us to watch tonight. Mostly horror movies, but everyone’s fine with that, right?”

Everyone made vague noises of agreement and stood up to go get ready for the movie night. Ryou’s pointed expression halted them.

“Someone’s going to have to help me with these dishes. I’m not your maid.” 

Time seemed to come to a grinding halt as everyone mumbled guiltily and tried to think up an excuse, except for Mariku.

“I’d be glad to help. Everyone else can go and get ready.” Taking his words as permission, everyone else bolted for the stairs, Bakura pretending not to notice Ryou’s pleading glance. 

Mariku moved forward and started drying dishes and loading them into the washer, disregarding how Ryou flinched away from him. They worked in silence for some time, Ryou slowly relaxing against his better judgment. Finally, Mariku broke the silence, keeping his eyes down and tone nonthreatening.

“Ryou, we need to talk.”

Ryou made a sound that went something like ‘Eeep’ and tried to stutter out something unintelligible.

“Don’t lie, I know you’re scared of me, and I can almost understand why. I’m not the same as I was in battle city. Merging with Marik temporarily allowed me to balance out my negative emotions with positive one. After so many years separate, we were too different for him to resorb me completely, but I’m much more...human, now. I won’t hurt you or anyone else, and I don’t like you being afraid of me.”

Ryou blushed pink and nearly dropped a plate, looking like he was going to protest. Instead, he thoughtfully closed his mouth and looked Marik in the eyes for the first time.

“I’m sorry, Mariku. The way I’ve been treating you is unfair.”

“It’s fine. Nothing you heard about me was a lie, it’s not like you were judging me falsely.” 

Ryou exhaled audibly.

“No, it’s not fine. Bakura and Marik have done things just as bad, Bakura especially. But I’d never met you, and you’re physically you’re much more imposing, so I judged you more harshly. I really am sorry, and from now on I’ll give you a chance.”

Mariku looked up and gave a sunny, childish smile that altogether negated the threatening demeanor that Ryou had mentioned. Even his dull purple gaze and glowing Eye of Horus couldn’t quite make up for such obvious glee. Ryou couldn’t help but smile back, suddenly recalling Mariku’s chronological age. He really is about seven, isn’t he? I didn’t see it before, but I guess it shows up when he exercises his new, positive emotions. It’s rather endearing, really.

“You know,” Mariku continued brightly, “you have much more of a backbone than I expected from what Bakura said.”

Ryou’s face contorted oddly as he tried to decide whether to react to the insult or the compliment. Eventually choosing the latter, he exhaled slowly and replied.

“I lived with Bakura in my head for years, and eventually I had to stop him from just steamrolling over me whenever he wanted our body. Once you have the backbone to deal with Bakura, not many things really seem like a threat.”

“But apparently I did,” complained Mariku, “and you don’t even remember the awful stuff I did!”

Ryou laughed softly. 

“It’s because you look so dangerous, I suppose. Bakura looks a bit demonic, but it’s my body he’s in after all.” Taking pity on an obviously confused Mariku, Ryou explained.

“You’re tall, and the spiky hair makes you look even taller. You’re…” Ryou waved a hand vaguely, “muscly and you have that glowing eye, and your pupils are really large and this dull opaque purple that doesn’t look quite human. And you tend not to have an expression, so I can never tell what you’re thinking…” eventually, the Brit realized he was babbling, and snapped his jaw closed for a second before promptly opening it again.

“Why do you and Marik look so different anyway? Even your features look a bit heavier and more masculine.”

Mariku loaded the last few dishes into the machine and started it.

“It’s because we’re basically two halves of the same soul. By now, we’re complete without each other, but we emphasize the body differently, if that makes sense. My general attitude or aura or whatever makes the more threatening, masculine characteristics of our body stand out, while Marik looks more innocent and feminine. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he can be a manipulative bitch, and the innocent look helps with that, but he’s the ‘light’ half of our soul.”

“Oh,” said Ryou slowly, “that actually makes sense. And since you two separated, it looks like you’ve grown and gotten more muscled. I suppose it makes it easier to tell you apart. But either way, it’s time for the movie. I’m going to make popcorn. Do you know how to put on the movie? And can you get everyone else down?”

Mariku nodded and set off, bellowing a summons up the stairs as he went. By the time Ryou and Mariku were ready, the others had filed down the stairs, wearing sweat pants and loose shirts, except for Akefia, who had something against covering his torso.

Bakura all but dragged Marik to the couch next to him, then glared at Akefia until his past self sat at the very end of the couch.. Mariku smiled brightly up at Ryou and patted the place beside him on the other couch, Ryou plopped down next to him gladly. He was quickly becoming fond of Mariku. As much as he loved the rest of his friends in the house, Mariku had a certain honesty and sincerity that set him apart. Ryou would never want to come across him in a bad mood, but when dealing with his new, lighter side, he was childlike and innocent. 

The horror movie Ryou had chosen to start with involved both psychological and occult horror. Despite being what Bakura would call a ‘pansy’, he absolutely loved horror movies, especially ones dealing with the supernatural or occult. He and Mariku were on the edge of their seats, Mariku with a rather crazed, bloodthirsty grin. Ryou, during slow parts of the film, wondered why the grin didn’t unnerve him. He supposed it was the genuine glee in Mariku’s eyes, rather than any sadistic pleasure. 

Akefia, on the end of the second couch, looked thoroughly engrossed, and appeared to be taking mental notes on the elaborate deaths portrayed, perhaps for future reference.

Bakura, forty-five minutes into the movie, was torn between sympathetic dismay and glee. The movie was practically designed to push all of Marik’s buttons. There was a creepy underground labyrinth, a terrible prophecy from thousands of years ago that hung like a miasma of death over the small town, and the killer’s signature move was slashing pentagrams into the victims’ backs. The suspense element was pulled off very well, too. Marik was pressed back into the cushions, hands clenched in the fabric of a pillow, eyes glued in unblinking horror to the screen. 

The next time they were treated to a zoom shot of a victim getting their back slashed open in graphic detail, the genuine trauma in Marik’s eyes drove Bakura to real sympathy. He instincts told him to grab Marik and pull him into a hug, but his common sense disagreed. Heck, here was the perfect opportunity to both comfort Marik and make his move.

The spirit slowly slid a hand across the space between them and gripped Marik’s upper arm. Marik jumped at looked at him, shocked. Bakura smiled at him and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. Marik looked hesitant, but finally took the plunge and scooted closer. Bakura encouraged him with a soft tug, ending up with Marik shoulder to shoulder with him. He turned back to the movie, and after about five minutes, reached up a hand to ‘absentmindedly’ stroke Marik’s hair.

Marik didn’t hesitate to lean into Bakura’s touch and scoot closer, eventually ending up pressed to the right side of Bakura’s chest with a left leg flung over his lap. Bakura couldn’t for the life of him remember exactly what had happened in the movie after, and he had a complete blackout after the point where Marik’s head came to rest under his head and the Egyptian began playing with a lock of snow-white hair.

A bit after that, Akefia was looking around for the popcorn and spotted the two. He had a long, silent snicker, then prodded Ryou insistently until the boy spun around and hissed “What?” 

Akefia shushed him quickly and indicated the two other occupants of his house with a jerk of his head. Marik was outright cuddling with Bakura, who had a fatuous grin on his face, and one arm around Marik’s shoulders while the other was slid into his blond hair.

Marik himself had his eyes closed and was wrapping Bakura’s hair around his fingers. Neither was paying any attention to their surroundings, let alone the movie. Ryou slapped a hand over his mouth to suppress his giggling, and prodded Mariku, who threw his head back in silent laughter, then waved his hand in Bakura’s peripheral vision until the spirit looked at him, at which point Mariku gave a slow, lecherous grin and an altogether too approving thumbs up.

Bakura flushed momentarily, then recovered enough to pull Marik against him more tightly and glower at everyone else until they reluctantly looked away, Ryou’s expression saying all too clearly that he wished he had a camera.

At eleven, they started the second movie, which was much more cheesy and slasher-y. Mariku and Ryou lowered the volume and screamed at the television as if the stupid teenage victims could hear them. Even Akefia joined in, usually with disconcerting comments about how he would give the killer a taste of his own medicine, or something along the lines of ‘that’s not what intestines look like!’

Eventually Mariku looked over to check on Marik’s virtue, only to find Marik looking back. /Well,/ the hikari thought resignedly, /get on with it. Mock away, O Lord of Darkness./ Mariku raised an eyebrow in response, and sent back, /Hey, I’m not judging. Heck, I’m jealous of your progress. Note, however, that I am sitting within five feet of Ryou and he isn’t screaming./

Marik snorted inaudibly. /Congrats, Romeo. And it’s not the same at all! I don’t feel like that about Bakura!/

Mariku sent him the mental equivalent of a sigh. /Denial is what got you into the biggest clusterfuck of your life, and what’s the first thing you do after clearing it up? I ask you!/

Silence from Marik’s end, then an indignant /I’m not in DENIAL, dumbass. You’re just projecting your creepy feelings for Ryou! There’s such a thing as platonic contact, and why the heck would I like Bakura? He’s thousands of years older than me, a complete asshole, and probably asexual or something. Piss off!/

Mariku would have liked to fight back, but he reluctantly recalled his bargain with Bakura. If he pushed Marik now, his hikari would react unpredictably, and if Mariku wanted help with Ryou, this had to work out. It was hard, but he managed to seal his big mouth.

By the time they all trailed up to bed, even Akefia was yawning. It was around one in the morning.


End file.
